Books for the Small-Farm Curious

a view towards our old orchard

It is a known fact, or at least one as reported by my beloved, that I tend to buy books like an average kid buys candy bars. And over the past 30 years, it is true, that I have managed to accumulate a fair library of farming-related books. Even on that fateful day, when we first had the discussion about buying land, my response was to buy a book (or three). And it is because of this truth that I am sometimes asked to provide a list of titles that may be of use to those in pursuing a “productive” life in the country.

But before we delve into learning by reading … it should be noted that the best education comes from those who have the experience. So, try and find someone who already farms, then volunteer to help. Learn by putting your hands in the dirt, stretching barbed wire, raising animals, and most importantly, paying attention to what you are learning.

That last is particularly important. Over the years we have both benefited from a habit of critical assessment. After, say, a difficult session castrating young steers, we will sit down, usually over an afternoon coffee, and discuss what went well and what could be improved. It may be a simple modification to the infrastructure or a reminder to make sure we have everything on hand before we begin. But that active reflection on what we did is as important as the preparation for what we do.

Each wave of books on farming or homesteading has its own new jargon to describe similar methods. While the blame may lie partly with the publishers, who are tasked with putting new titles before the public each year, it can also be placed with the consumer, who is always in search of the latest and greatest, the magic bullet. For instance, the au courant buzzword is “regenerative.” A couple of years ago, the more or less same practice was called “restorative.” Four years before that it was “resilient.” “Permaculture”, “sustainable”, “self-sufficient” — each held sway for its allotted years. “Organic” is said to have been coined in 1940. Go back even further, to the 1930s, and the word du jour was “self-sufficing” (at a time when farming was simply called “farming”). Take my word for it; I have books with all those terms. Each new designation frames the question of how to farm in a slightly different way, but they all fundamentally describe a style of agriculture that is non-industrial, at least in mindset. The point here is, don’t get hung up on a term. (If you really want to go old school, Lucius Columella, AD 4-70, has something worthwhile to say on most topics … that is, if you exclude the bits on when to sacrifice a puppy before plowing.)

On to the book advice:

If you want to read only one author, then Joel Salatin is always a great choice. But you may need to grab just one title of his to get the gist of what the others preach: practice multispecies pasture rotation. Then again, he is always entertaining in how he says what he says. And I should know; I have seven of his books.

Next, two publishers to consider. A publisher is like an artist, in that each has a style even as his or her work evolves. These two, Storey Books (Garden Way) and Chelsea Green, are the best “artists” in the small-ag field. A solid, instructional farm library can easily be built on their selections alone.

www.storey.com or www.chelseagreen.com

General guides

  • Grow It! The Beginner’s Complete In-Harmony-With-Nature Small Farm Guide (Richard Langer, Noonday Press). It came out in 1972 and remains an easy-to-use reference when you get stumped.
  • Small-Scale Livestock Farming: A Grass-Based Approach for Health, Sustainability, and Profit (Carol Ekarius, Storey).
  • Successful Small-Scale Farming, An Organic Approach, a companion to the one above (Karl Schwenke, Storey).
  • The Winter Harvest Handbook, Year-Round Vegetable Production Using Deep-Organic Techniques and Unheated Greenhouses (Eliot Coleman, Chelsea Green). Coleman is the godfather of year-round gardening. That he pioneered his techniques in Maine makes his approach even more amazing and indispensable.
  • Will Bonsall’s Essential Guide to Radical, Self-Reliant Gardening (Will Bonsall, Chelsea Green). I reread this one every two years. Bonsall is an old hippie and a vegetarian who grows everything, with no animal inputs, very little fuel. This is a man who walks the walk and shows you how you can produce more with very little. It is a powerful book, with humor.

Specific guides

Focus on Storey Books publishing. They have dozens of titles like these:

  • Small-Scale Pig Raising (Dirk van Loon)
  • Storey’s Guide to Raising Dairy Goats (Jerry Belanger)

Every volume is an essential reference for raising a type of livestock. The range covers the basics of geese, beef cattle, milk cows, turkeys, ducks, and on and on. My suggestion is, pick four to buy based on your interests. You can’t go wrong. Most can be found used.

I’d also suggest one title on butchering if you plan on raising livestock:

  • Butchering: Poultry, Rabbit, Lamb, Goat, Pork — The Comprehensive Photographic Guide to Humane Slaughtering and Butchering (Adam Danforth, Chelsea Green). I attended one of his butchering workshops a few years back, and he knows his stuff. I use this book as a refresher guide multiple times a year.

And there you have it, an instant farm library … though, if these are the essential ones, then why does my library contain a few hundred other agricultural titles? Because books themselves are necessary. Sure, the internet and all those videos on YouTube can be helpful. But since farming is ultimately an analog life, books are a perfect companion on that journey. So perfect, in fact, that they can be read by solar power and never, ever require recharging. Genius!

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Reading this weekend:  A Rich Spot of Earth, Thomas Jefferson’s revolutionary garden at Monticello (J. Hatch). Feeds and Feeding (F. Morrison).

Basic Farm Lessons: Part 4

bawling-008

Short Lessons

  • Magic Wild Turkey Tricks: I have a magic flock of wild turkeys on the farm. Each evening, between the hours of 4 and 6, they reliably cross the lane and graze on our hill pasture. Yet if I stand quiet in the shadows with my shotgun at the appointed time, they magically never appear. How do they do that?
  • Learning to Panic: Living on a farm provides plenty of opportunities in learning to panic. Owning Grainger, a 70-pound adolescent Carolina Dog who still considers chickens chew toys, gives me multiple moments of anxiety each day. Yesterday, I walked around a corner of the barn to find the door to the brooder left open and all 25 4-week-old Barred Rocks scattering to the wind.
  • Water Conservation, Part 1: (A timely lesson as our county slips into extreme drought.) Question: If I turn on the water for the hogs in the woods at 8 a.m., at what time will Cindy come in the house to inquire after the length of time the water has been filling the hog trough? Answer: 5 p.m.
  • Water Conservation, Part 2: In an effort to redeem myself, I hustle outside and fill up the sheep’s water trough. When it is full, I leave the hose in the trough and carefully disconnect the hose from its source. Doing so allows the hose to act as a siphon … slowly pulling all of the water back out of the trough and onto the parched ground. Later, over dinner, Cindy asks, “I thought you were going to fill up the sheep’s watering trough?” I feign deafness.

The Longer Lesson

Timing Is Everything: One of our nearer neighbors owns six or so dogs, an unruly mix of mutts big and small. The largest are kept penned, bored and alone, and bark morning and evening. Although a good third of a mile from our house, they can still be heard clearly through the windows and walls of my study. Not quite loud enough to disrupt my slumber, they nevertheless disturb my early morning reading and correspondence.

I’d been looking for a way to gently approach the neighbors with the question, “How in the hell can you live with such racket?!” Since their son works on our farm on Saturdays, I decided that would give me a perfect opportunity for a conversation. And, more important, a demonstration of how we manage to be good, quiet neighbors by keeping our animals firmly in check.

Yesterday, after he’d arrived and we’d exchanged a few minutes of pleasantries, the time had come to diplomatically broach the barking dogs.

Having first made a point of disciplining Grainger as he repeatedly lunged at a chicken on the other side of a fence, I began, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask …”

Alas, it was at that very moment that the sheep chose to begin their morning cacophony, drowning out my words, “… about your barking dogs.” Their bleating was immediately overwhelmed by the cattle in the lower pasture as they began bawling lustily for fresh hay. The sounds echoed off the ridges and continued for the next 15 minutes, disturbing the peace of everyone within a mile.

Half an hour later, our farm helper reminded me politely that I had wanted to ask him something. “Never mind,” I said. “We can talk about it another time.”

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Reading this weekend: The Winter Harvest Handbook by Eliot Coleman. A re-reading of this modern classic to prepare us to use our new hoop house.